


Royal Treatment

by completetheory



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Alien gender, F/M, Flirting, Genitalia piercings, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Queer Friendly, Queer Themes, Safe Sane and Consensual, Transgender, honor bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completetheory/pseuds/completetheory
Summary: Bertram Tung thinks highly of the Ventrue, and no Ventrue properly trained would disregard the usefulness of the Nosferatu. Sebastian LaCroix, Ancilla Prince of Los Angeles, discovers exactly how fiercely Tung is willing to please.
Relationships: Sebastian LaCroix/Bertram Tung
Kudos: 15





	Royal Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadScientific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadScientific/gifts).



Sex with a Ventrue was always a highlight of Tung's time spent in any domain. Because of their social background, culture, and training, the Ventrue were never shocked by Nosferatu appearances, and they rarely wasted any time looking down their noses at a valuable and powerful source of information. Wise Nosferatu Princes had Ventrue Seneschal, and vice versa. Over in Las Vegas, Benedic and Montrose had made a career out of their mutual adoration, and Tung suspected, though didn't pry, that they were boning on the regular.

He was fond of a few Ventrue in particular, and he lingered in Los Angeles as a personal favor to one in particular, though he wasn't gauche enough to say as much to LaCroix originally, he found after a few meetings, he liked her independently. 

It wasn't long after that he started delivering his information to her personally, voluntarily taking on new errands and 'letting slip' valuable gossip about the nearby local baronies. LaCroix hadn't moved in on Therese's turf, _all-of-four-vampires_ or not, but she also hadn't moved in on Isaac Abrams. It felt like she was trying very hard to do things the standard, traditional Camarilla way. She had a broke, bootleg Primogen system, a half decent Sheriff (Tzimisce, Tung realized with some approval, and some caution, until he saw there might be true devotion hiding behind that silent bruiser role...) and a completely decontextualized Anarch group.

Tung valued the Sheriff more when he attended Elysium and heard how the young hothead of the Anarchs was talking. Yeesh. 

Tung had planned to stay only a few weeks, but they became months, and at the five month mark he finally leaned over the desk at the conclusion of a private, intel meeting, and drawled, "Prince LaCroix... I wonder if I could have a minute of your time for a personal matter." 

Sebastian was on her guard, as Tung expected, without knowing what the _personal matter_ might be, it was a Ventrue's job to be concerned ahead of time. "Yes. Speak, Tung... I can't promise anything."

As he was an Elder, and Sebastian only Ancilla, she took care to be moderately respectful. But she was close enough to Elder status, and she had some incredibly impressive credentials, either way. So she wasn't a pup by Tung's standards, she was really becoming something special. Despite, or perhaps because of, the inclement conditions in L.A.

"I feel I've really gotten to know you better, and I like what I see." Tung said, frankly, suspecting she would appreciate an out-with-it over a more flirtatious approach. He traced a blunted talon across the back of her hand, the soft flesh there only ever so slightly indented. "I don't think it would spoil our working relationship if we saw one another off-hours, but if you don't feel the same, nothing else changes between us. You still get the same amount of my intel and attention." 

Whatever she had been expecting from him, that plainly wasn't it, and her mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, in a display of weakness a seasoned Ventrue would never permit, unless they were reeling in a fish to think poorly of them. 

"I like you as well." She gestured, delayed, to her Sheriff, "Leave us, Jawara." 

Tung waited until the Sheriff had left, finding it quite a compliment to how much trust he'd built up thus far. Apparently, being respectful and praising where appropriate worked wonders with this one. 

"Now, understand, that if we do have pleasurable liaisons, they won't leave this room. I can't be suspected of giving Kindred in my domain some kind of special favors for sexual gratification."

It was reassuring. Tung didn't think her reasoning would be anything to do with how it might reflect on her to be 'seen' dating a Nosferatu, but the confirmation was nice. 

"I'm the heart and soul of discretion," He purred, knowingly lifting her small, soft hand in his big monstrous paw and kissing it firmly. 

Ventrue loved hands, their own and everyone else's. They communicated with a thousand micro-gestures, kept them neat and clean, and felt intensely vulnerable in the best way when shaking hands, or offering them over to someone else's brief possession. LaCroix was no exception. Her eyes half-lidded pleasantly, and her fingertips curled slightly in Tung's grasp, appreciating the almost sovereign respect in the back-of-hand kiss.

"How many languages do you speak?" LaCroix asked, mildly.

"If that was a polite way of asking how often I charm Ventrue out of their suits, the answer is very often. And I always have fun. I love your clan, Prince. And I think you're a worthy representative." 

LaCroix's breath, simulated from habit, stopped for a second. She gently stood up, trying to shake off the praise while also basking in it - as if it were intended to mean nothing but meant far too much, at the same time. 

"It would be my pleasure to entertain one of my most esteemed Nosferatu colleagues tonight. Now."

LaCroix's bedroom was as much a work of art as her reception room, with the same nostalgic interior style, tinted windows, and a wide four poster bed. The bed looked like an antique, too, but Tung didn't have much time to examine it, because as soon as the heavy door clicked shut, LaCroix's arms were around him and her lips were on his jaw, kissing him while pulling at his heavy overcoat. 

Impulsively he helped shrug it off, and then gamely returned her embrace, lifting her up off the floor a few inches, which she _really_ seemed to like, as the kisses increased in intensity and worked around the side of his face, coming to his lips and meeting his eyes for a second, almost startled by the depth of her passion. 

She was a hungry creature, desperate but justifiably wary of vulnerability, and he intentionally closed the gap with a gentle, firm mouth to mouth kiss. Better than any open reassurance, he supposed, though he did turn and deposit her on the bed, bending half kneeling before it to present a fully submissive posture. 

LaCroix charted a tightrope course between the fear of being open and the hunger that most kindred and kine had of bonding and healthy trust, and Tung let her, patient and unthreatening. He was rewarded with hands on his face, fingertips stroking the unique topography, with care and curiosity both. When LaCroix touched his right ear, he shivered pleasantly. Ears were the area on Nosferatu that were most likely to be sensitive, and were culturally a _very_ erogenous zone. She noticed, of course, running her thumb along the ridge, meeting his eyes with barely suppressed delight. 

Her discovery of a way to please him, to reward him, was almost more attractive than the prospect of finding pleasure from him, and she hadn't been more Ventrue to him than she was in that moment.

Her desire to serve notwithstanding, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her trousers, kissing the inner pant leg and working his way up to outright nuzzle and purposefully breathe cool against the fabric of her crotch, pushing up the long jacket material. Her dick had no real growing room in such a confined space, he could feel it tight and getting harder under his cheek, and he grinned with dental shrapnel up at her. 

"I guess we're both having a good effect on each other." 

She stroked the side of his face. "Yes, but you'll have to keep trying, if you want me to lose my composure," She teased, though there was the thin ragged edge in her voice that Tung liked enormously. 

"Prince," Tung _purred_ the title, "I want you to be able to relax...." He massaged the muscles of her thigh with one idle hand, his own so large it could effortlessly work the flesh. "You work so hard. What do you like, in bed?" 

LaCroix swallowed unnecessarily. "I like to be able to direct. I enjoy both kinds of penetration, and - I'm fond of eye contact." She was also fond of being able to hide her face when she got truly overwhelmed, but she stuck to the basics for the moment, nothing too complicated. 

"Nothing sounds like a dealbreaker there. Direct me." Tung urged softly, all coiled power and gentleness. LaCroix had heard rumors that Bertram and Jeanette had a relationship, and, if it were true and not idle gossip, she could see why. Something about Tung was intensely charismatic, everything he said and did smoldered with an undercurrent of attractive self love and confidence... the kind that made it easier for her to feel appreciated by him, to let down her guard. 

"Undress me." She didn't have to sound imperious; Tung was aware of her status and respected her, and she craved that more than anything, more even than tenderness. Respect as a form of validation. 

Bertram's hands, surprisingly dexterous despite their size and claws, worked at her shoelaces, getting her shoes and socks off, setting them aside respectfully. He climbed up to the bed beside her as if the brief interlude was unbearable and got back to kissing and nuzzling the side of her face while he worked at the buttons of her jacket, then slid it off from around her shoulders. In his red button down shirt, the muscles of his upper body were easy to guess at, and Sebastian gave him a look of momentary pure longing, as if what she wanted from him was so much more than a night of wanton companionship.

Good news, if so. 

"I wasn't going to stay here long," His lips found her ear, as he wrapped his arms around her chest from behind, first lightly stroking up under the shirt, then working at its buttons with urgent care. "In Los Angeles. But there are things I want to do now, and it's good that you're here. I'm glad, Sebastian." 

Sebastian felt like pointing out that it was infinitely better that Tung was here, given the local Nosferatu were mostly made up of Neonates who hated themselves, but then her shirt was off and the cool air on her skin was a supreme distraction as Tung's mouth found her shoulder, working up...

"Oh-..." She said instead. He paused. 

"Is it okay to touch your neck? Would you rather I didn't?" 

It was attentive, he was balanced perfectly between rich desire and earnest compassion. He didn't know the circumstances of her Embrace. Some Kindred never felt comfortable baring their necks again, pleasure or no pleasure. Sebastian was not one of these, and she wasn't nervous around Tung specifically. More and more, the more he kept asking questions like that, staying the master of his passion. 

"You're fine. Proceed." Shirtless and scarred, and she'd barely even thought about the scars, as evidence of how comfortable she was with him. 

She helped him get her trousers off, which was a relief, given how she ached at that moment, and his eyes lingered on the shape outlined against her underwear, delighted by her. "You're very attractive." He observed. 

Her Ventrue nature was never stronger, "Hardly my best feature, but I'll allow it. What is it you want to do, Bertram?" 

"Oh, I could take you any way," Tung loved the sound of his name on that tongue, stenciled with crisp syllables, almost as much as he'd loved the question, the invitation. What did he want to do? Suck her dick until she was emptying into his mouth with vigor, envelop her penis with his pussy, penetrate her with his own dick - one of the best things, in Tung's opinion, about the Nosferatu transformation was clan-standard dual genitalia. 

He worked his own pants most of the way off to demonstrate, giving her a glimpse of his soft cock and underneath, the swell of a thick-lipped vagina. "You choose." 

"Lie down, I'd like to be on top." Called upon to make a decision, LaCroix didn't idle long. As Tung obeyed, still mostly dressed, LaCroix, mostly naked, climbed onto him. "Are you comfortable?" 

The bed was almost sinfully so. Tung could've gotten better digs, personally, but once a body got used to sleeping on a mattress on the ground, why mess with it? 

He clasped her hips with both hands, careful even with the blunted claws, looking up into her face with an incredibly satisfied expression. "Very."

"Good. Because I would prefer if you remained where you were, if possible. Call it honor bondage, if you like." As she spoke, she divested herself smoothly of her last fabric impediment and sat revealed across him, regal and proud. He loved seeing her that way. 

He almost laughed, and the delight was evident in his voice. "Sure." 

She leaned over him to retrieve a small tube of lubricant from the bedside drawer. It was a prerequisite really, if nothing else, the state of undeath slowed down even the production of precum without the blush of life technique that some Toreador had pioneered. Select clans had followed their lead, but they still needed to compensate on some level for biological changes. Tung believed there were almost no limits to how the blood could be manipulated to master the body, but even _he_ was young by some standards, and LaCroix definitely was. The vampire equivalent of someone in their mid twenties. 

"If I ask something of you and you would need to move to accomplish it, do so. And if you feel uncomfortable, obviously, move to alleviate it." LaCroix continued to communicate as she worked slim fingers, dripping with lube, into herself. Not being able to see it directly but being able to imagine was almost as attractive to Tung as the full view, and he found himself grinning unapologetically at her. 

"Yes ma'am. I'm good right where I am for now." 

After a few more moments, during which the preemptive enjoyment of playing with herself showed plainly on her face, she moved forward and straddled Tung's dick, grinding slowly against it. The additional piercings he had there helped a great deal with sensation, the cold and friction by turns, and she looked down into his face with a yearning so powerful and passionate that for a moment he could do nothing but look back. It was almost the inverse of a dominating skill, it captivated him with the raw _asking_ , the gratitude for this vulnerability, naked but unspoken.

"Nnn." She glanced away, and he let her break eye contact, not too jaded to understand how overwhelming it could feel to make that connection. "Do you need to use your hands to get yourself erect?" 

"Not with this view." Tung returned instantly, and while borrowed blood did not flush her face, he saw the beginnings of a smile. She _did_ prize compliments like those, just not as highly as compliments of her prowess. And that was understandable. 

He was right, too, as she continued grinding and his thoughts gathered more persistently around the idea of being inside her, his dick perked, and she reached back behind herself with the lubricated hand to help encourage it along. Her fingers, nimble and authoritative, made him grin jaggedly. 

"Wow. _Thank you._ " He purred. 

"You're - very welcome." LaCroix managed, guiding him against her as soon as it was theoretically possible to do, wanting to feel his piercings inside her as well. She didn't quite rush, and they were both experienced, and it felt _very_ good. A Ventrue's natural fortitude meant she could move a good deal faster than even an ordinary Kindred without much pain, and with her enthusiasm (and most importantly all the lube), it was a simple matter to begin to engulf his cock. 

His fingers fisted against the bedclothes, but he stayed raptly still otherwise, until she was halfway down on him, and she took a moment to steady herself. 

"Excellent." She observed, "You're a good size for me... and very obedient." 

"Oh, I can be better than this." Tung goaded happily, "You haven't given me any orders yet. Denial, or touching you... I'm yours, cupcake. Take the reins... and _reign._ "

LaCroix's mouth worked, glad to have the information as well as the obvious enthusiasm with which it was presented. "In that case, I should like you to hold off. You may cum when I satisfy myself, and not before." 

He chuckled, happy as hell to offer her complete submission - he trusted her a great deal, and although she was young, he had a sneaking suspicion she was of lower generation, and therefore more powerful. Trust in this society could be... expensive. It was the real reason Kindred hesitated to take lovers, for much the same reasons humans did. Heartbreak and worse were the potential consequences. But he felt safe here, and he wanted her to, as well. 

"Is this all right?" His hands found her hips again, where they had strayed away before, and she looked ...satisfied, that he wanted to touch her in ways not explicitly sexual, ways that verged on fond. 

"Certainly." She encouraged, sliding down further on him, taking him all the way into herself, with a devilish look only slightly clouded by pleasure, "Mmm, but you won't want to inhibit me... Once I get comfortable." 

Any banter in response died in his throat as he was momentarily enraptured by her, caught up in the gray flint of her eyes in a way wholly unrelated to domination, in the enthusiasm and promise she gave like an oath, swearing by giving her best and nothing but. Somehow her expression communicated all this, and while she had sharp edges, Tung knew well the tides of time would smooth them if she were permitted. In some ways she was identical to the Fledgling of Los Angeles, thrust into a dangerous situation and struggling to claw to any advantage, but so calm, so companionable, when respected. 

He redoubled his efforts to satisfy her request in that moment, stroking her hips lightly as she began to move, fucking herself initially slow and languid, advantaging herself of the position to control the depth and speed of descent. She made soft appreciative sounds, reserved in her demonstration of emotion but only by her own standards, and Tung didn't urge her to give more than she was willing to. She was soon moving hard and fast against him with increasing desperation. 

The friction was doing wonders for him, too, but he managed to maintain himself, keeping steady, not ceding to his urges. He felt her muscles tense under his hands, but he was watching her face, and the way she abruptly put a hand to his clothed chest to steady herself a bit, she closed her eyes and shuddered with frissons of extreme good feeling, finding the best possible angle for his studded dick. 

"Aah-..." 

More than nudity, more than the sex, the soft cry was trust and vulnerability. The way she let go, expecting Tung to 'look past' her emotionality, but the Nosferatu's upbringing embraced such things wholeheartedly. 

"God, that's so hot." He encouraged, "Nnn, keep it up and I'll really struggle - to hold off for you." 

"Nonsense," LaCroix gasped, "Besides myself, you are the most disciplined Kindred in this Domain. Ffff-....Ventru. You are sublime. An invaluable toy." 

He grinned agreeably, so long as objectification didn't come with debasement, he found it endearing. Maybe not near the top of his fetishes, but how much she liked it made it more attractive. And her unwillingness to curse was also sweet. 

Without too much warning she got back to rocking her hips against him, leaning down to achieve her best angle, and Tung's hands twitched, longing to stroke her dick, which she seemed to be intentionally neglecting for the moment. 

"Is it all right if I touch--" He started to take a hand from her hip, but she wordlessly shook her head no, not out of any desire to domineer but with the certain knowledge that she was moments from the edge. She came powerfully only a few seconds later, gasping down into Tung's pointed ear, and 'breathing' from emotion, raggedly and unnecessarily. 

Equally unnecessarily, but showcasing determination, she continued to rock against him, and he took her orgasm as tacit permission for his own, letting himself release when he was deep inside her. She groaned appreciatively, settling down and lying still on his chest, indulging in the languid calm of a job well done. 

"Are you always gonna want to do all the work?" Tung teased softly, "I could show you a good time, you know. Let you relax."

"'Relax' is not in the Ventrue lexicon." 

"I'm pretty sure it's Latin," Tung stroked her hair, ran a thumb down the side of her face. "I appreciate you, you know." 

"Mmm." LaCroix gave his hand a quick, efficient peck. "You do. This won't be the last time, so long as you're amenable to future encounters. You display your appreciation of me well, and I should like the opportunity to serve you, in return." 

Tung paused, "You mean in bed, or are we talking about business?" 

"Yes." LaCroix decided.


End file.
